


Crossroads | Countryhmans AU

by Appolinariusthepurplegladiator43, RavenFrost



Category: Country Humans - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Swastikas and Nazis, Violence, War, other possible triggers such as self harm and mentions of rape, unpopular ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27413173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Appolinariusthepurplegladiator43/pseuds/Appolinariusthepurplegladiator43, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenFrost/pseuds/RavenFrost
Summary: Only the blind make deals with the devil at the crossroads.
Relationships: Belgium/OC, Poland/Romania (Anthropomorphic)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, yes. A Poland x Romania fanfic, bc my void of a mind is ✨ u n i q u e ✨  
> In other words, I don’t prefer most nOrmAL ships and cannons. UvU
> 
> \------
> 
> Aha! Back at it again (at Krispy Kreme's)
> 
> Its been a while since I've done anything to do to the CH fandom so its a nice change from JSAB and Hollow Knight!
> 
> I'm just here for editing mostly, heh, but I have a feeling that this is going to be one hecc of a collab!
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

Poland's POV

It is 12:45 AM on September 4th, 1948. It has been three years since we've last seen the light of day. Our people were under the mercy of the Nazis, as we are now under Reich's- or "Master," as he has us call him, like we are his slaves. No. We are more like prisoners, locked in a bunker with a limited amount of food and water. There is no heat to keep warm and we are only brought out once every few days for a dreadful beating.

We are miserable. Many times Czech tried to commit suicide by cutting himself using his fingernails. But Reich didn't let him to die, not yet, so Czech's reward was a pair of high-tech handcuffs, latched around his hands like a sadistic metal clothespin. They were so tight, he couldn't even stretch his fingers, and his wrists were always bleeding from his attempts to escape them.

France wasn't any better. Ever since Reich killed Austria, her best friend, she's been keeping to herself, always curled up in a corner of their bunker. She was so broken. She couldn't even pretend to be happy. _I will kill Reich for that_ , I had thought. France was like a sister to me. I would do anything to make her happy and get rid of anyone who even dreamed of hurting her.

After Austria died, I knew I would be next. Reich had killed her for his own pleasure, but I was the one who always resisted the beatings. I was the one who never learned. I was the one Reich would kill next, just to get me out from under his perfect feet.

The last time I fought him, at 6:00 AM yesterday, I managed to break free. Without thinking, I bolted up the concrete staircase and into the roof. I kept running toward the edge, leaping into the air at the last second. I flapped my wings frantically, hoping to catch the breeze. Finally, a cold that of wind filled my wings, and I was flying. "Go, Poland!" I heard France call from the barred window of our bunker. Below me, Italy was smiling up at me, Imperial Japan slowly nodding, a smirk on his face.

Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced my left wing. Instinctively, I curled it back into my spine, and I fell. I fell for what felt like centuries, France's cries filling my ears. I hit the ground with a reverberating thud, and my vision blurred. Imperial Japan looked down at me with an expression of pity. I could tell he wanted so much to help us, but he knew that if he did, he would jeopardise his fragile alliance with Reich.

Now, the Third Reich himself stood over me, a pistol in hand. The black metal glinted with malice in the harsh light of the morning. A fearsome scowl crossed his face.

Then, everything went black.

. . . . .

I woke up hanging from a chain on the ceiling of a dark room, my hands tightly bound by thick, coarse ropes.

A dark figure stood in front of me, just out of the moonlight's reach. 

"Guten tag, Polen," 

My eyes widened at that familiar voice. That voice that everyone learned to fear, for the man who owned it was not one to play games. That voice belonged to none other than Reich.

He slowly stepped into the minimal light provided by a small hole in the ceiling, an malevolent smile tearing across his face. 

"Polen," he started, his smile fading into a harsh glare. " You know the rules, ja? " 

I slowly nodded.

"And what are they?" He asked, his sharp eyes never once leaving mine.

I gulped, nervous. "No s-self harm, no contact with Powers, Allied nor Axis, n-no escape-, " 

"Ah, so you do remember that last one?"

Forcibly, I nodded.

Reich bared his fangs. "Well then, do you not remember the consequences!?" He shouted, striking me with a clawed hand. I knew better than to cry out in pain. He would just continue if I did.

"I d-do," I whispered, a cold tear running down my face. The salty water gracing my cheek is the only solace I would find within the coils of this snake.

Reich backed away from me, into the darkness where I could no longer see him. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Then, like the cry of a magpie piercing the night, the grating sound of some thing being sharpened sliced through my false hope. The blood drained from my face when Reich's shadow slithered around me, stopping when he was completely out of my line of sight. 

"When Czechia tried to use his hands to escape by cutting himself until he bled out, what happened?" Reich whispered in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. 

"He...lost his hands-"

"Right," my body ran cold when a sharp blade was pressed onto the base of my left wing. I hissed as the weapon broke delicate skin.

"So if you try to use your wings to escape, what do you lose? "

I said nothing, too afraid to comprehend what was about to happen.

_My wings..._

At that moment, pain surged through my limbs and down my spine, black blood pouring onto the damp stone floor.

I cried out in agony. I begged for it all to stop, but the pain only grew. I barely realized when I blacked as Reich hacked into the base of my wing again and again, over and over, until it finally fell to the floor in a twitching, bloodied heap.

But he wasn't done. No. _He was far from it._

He then moved on to my right wing, repeating the process with that wretched knife of his.

When it all finally came to an end, Reich just stood behind me, examining his work as I began to hyperventilate. My mind was spinning, my vision fuzzy. The pain had become a broken numbness. My body had already forgotten the feeling of my feathers on my back. The Nazi spoke then, soft and sweet, with an edge of sadistic pleasure.

"You can't fly away... If you don't have wings, " he stated, the pride evident in his voice.

. . . . .

"Do you think he'll be okay? " 

"Surely, he will be. He is strong. He can fight pain that most can't." 

"But...He lost an awful lot of blood..."

"He'll be fine. I promise, "

"Look! He's waking up-! “

I groaned groggily when two warm arms wrapped around my shoulders. Blinking rapidly, I slowly sat up.

"Great, " I thought.

That bastard must have thrown me on the floor like a sack of rotten potatoes by the looks of it. My arms, ankles, and knees were aching like crazy; they were covered in bruises the size of golf balls. I sighed, wanting to forget all that happened. But I couldn't forget it. Not this time.

This was the last straw.

When we're free, and we will be someday, I'll teach that demon of a psychopath a lesson he'll never forget. But for now, I could barely even see my hand in front of my face. I sensed a presence beside me, not France, for she was the one clinging to me, and not Czech, as his heavy breathing could be heard on the other side of the room. I tensed up. Who could it be? Not Reich, he wouldn't visit without a beating. Not Imperial Japan, he was forbidden to visit us, and not Italy, for he didn't even know which bunker we were located in.

"So," an unfamiliar voice sounded. "Heard you lost your wings,"

_That voice..._

It had an accent. It sounded like Russian, but it was different, much thicker. It definitely wasn't German, and if it was Polish, I'd be in space.

I only nodded in response, unwilling to speak to a stranger.

"Poland-" France warned.

"Oh, it's okay if he doesn't want to talk," I looked up to see a blurry figure stretching its wings. Heh... Lucky. " I mean, I wouldn't either, after such a traumatic experience. "

"Oh, don't you start throwing words around like trash," I hissed at the stranger, venom coating my words. "You don't even know the meaning of the word trauma."

The stranger seemed surprised. Typical. I sort of had that affect, being the smallest in the room, yet the most fearless.

"Why, there's no need to be hostile," He said. " I only came to help,"

What? Help? Why would he do that?

"W-what do you mean..? "

"I knew Reich had prisoners here," the stranger began. "So I begged USSR to let me go and find you. He agreed, but I wasn't allowed to come with the troops; as he said it would be a waste. I have a tracker, just in case something happens." He paused, pulling something out of his pocket. It sounded like ...a sheet of paper?

"When I first snuck in, I took this out of a drawer in Reich's desk. It's a blueprint of the entire building, ventilation systems and all. I planned a few escape routes before I got caught."

The stranger knelt next to me, placing a warm hand on my shoulder.

"Polonia, my name is Romania," he said. "I'm gonna get you guys out of here."


	2. Vichy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vichy meets the Axis Powers on his way to find France.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand, here we go with another “impossible” ship from my beautiful collection. 👌

_“Vichy.”_

_". . ."_

_“...Vichy?”_

_". . ."_

_“VICHY!”_

_“OW-!”_

_Vichy let out a strangled yelp as Belgium’s barbed tail jabbed into his thigh. He hissed, the sharp sound earning an impatient eye-roll._

_The harsh sunlight of the grey morning slipped through the parted white curtains, casting its stern glare upon the rich mahogany furniture. The cobalt blue of his sheets painted a serious tone on the small room. Vichy groaned and dragged his thin fingers his face with tired hands._

_“Get up,” Belgium instructed, crossing his arms. “We need to get going.”_

_The boy sat up slowly and patted his leg, his confused expression smothered by a wince as his nerves made it known that he was very much hurt._

_“...Now? What time is it?”_

_“The sun’s rising already; we were supposed to leave an hour ago,”_

_Vichy rubbed his squinted eyes, groaning in frustration. Couldn’t they have stayed for five more minutes?_

_The two had been on the run for almost a year now; Reich’s forces were rapidly closing in on the Belgian border and they would, without a doubt, capture and kill them the moment they were spotted._

_That’s why, they were on their way to find France, Vichy’s older sister._

_He had heard that she had recently rejoined the Allied Powers with Britain and America, hoping that they could help her fend off the German onslaught like they had done with German Empire._

_But Reich was not his father._

_His army was advancing ever closer and Vichy knew they couldn’t stay in their cabin in Belgium any longer._

_He quickly slipped on his sweater and coat, afterward kneeling to buckle his leather boots. As he did so, he stole a glance at his boyfriend, only to find him sulking at the door*. He frowned._

_“What’s the matter, Bel?” Vichy asked, his voice quiet, soft as a feather._

_“Nothing, I-,” Belgium sighed, staring with a dull melancholy down at his feet. His tail twitched anxiously, the spines raising to stand on end. “I’m just...scared...” he buried his face in his clawed hands. “For my people...and for us,”_

_Vichy sighed tiredly, entwining his own tail with Belgium’s. He gently smoothed the spikes back into a resting position._

_“We’ll be okay, Bel. You’ll see,” he purred with a smile. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through it. Together.”_

. . . . .

Tears flowed down Vichy’s cheeks as he remembered that day.

He had been so naive then.

Vichy clung to his rifle with a white knuckled grip. The distant chatter of The Axis Powers themselves sent chills down his spine. They had already captured and likely killed Belgium, and now they were after him. He held the gun closer, taking deep breaths in attempt to calm himself, but the tears kept coming.

He soon gave up, only going as far as to let out a quiet sob, for fear of being captured. The French boy was shaking vigorously; if anyone had seen him, they would think he was having an epilepsy attack.

 _Enough, you idiot!_ _Just breathe..._ _Stop shaking!_

Only then had he noticed that the chatter had stopped.

Had the Axis Powers left?

He was half tempted to poke his head out from the abandoned trench to take a peek, but he thought better of it. After a long moment, he let out a long breath...

And the rifle slipped from his grasp.

Vichy didn't even have time to blink before the rifle had landed on the soft ground. The loud clatter of the metal inside mimicked the tormenting laughter of reality. And as if that wasn't just what he needed, the impact was just enough to nudge the trigger.

The bullet exploded into the air, the sound echoing through the silent trees.

Then came the heavy frantic footsteps.

_Shit_

He decided it was time to make a run for it. As he headed toward the shabby wooden ladder, the tears came again. This time, he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a loud sob when a bullet embedded itself into the rotten wood beside his head. Vichy flinched as the ladder splintered and creaked at the force of the speeding metal.

Before he could reach the top, however, a talon-like hand latched onto his shoulder. The needle-sharp claws sank into his skin, easily carving through flesh. As if no effort was needed at all, he was hoisted up and out of the trench, only to be slammed unceremoniously onto the scorched earth.

Vichy opened his tightly closed eyes hesitantly. Blood dribbled from his mouth. He must’ve bit down on his tongue. 

“ _Hallo, Vichy,”_

The boy jumped at the voice. It was deep and threatening, tinged with a spiteful joy. There was no guessing who this raspy voice belonged to. He looked up, eyes locking with Reich’s.

Vichy quickly looked away, fear and anger flooding his veins.

 _“Aw,”_ Reich cooed, his barbed tail flicking from side to side. “Don’t be like that,” A low growl erupted from his throat when Vichy still refused to look at him. He kicked the boy square in the nose, earning a painful yelp.

Reich grabbed his chin, forcing him to make eye contact once more. Vichy's tail wrapped tightly around one of his legs. The Führer’s smile widened at the sight of the blood flowing from his nose and mouth.

”That must hurt,” he stated, rising to his feet. The German summoned a pistol from his belt. “Let me put you out of your misery-,”

”WAIT-!”

Silence washed over the barren battlefield. Fascist Italy cleared his throat awkwardly, realizing what he had done. 

“Is there a problem, Italy?”

Said country cleared his throat once more. “I...H-He doesn’t have to-,” he froze when Reich pointed the gun at him.

” _Reich,”_ Imperial Japan warned, gripping the barrel of the gun.

”I believe what Italy was _trying_ to say,” another voice chimes in, it’s thick accent causing Vichy’s heart to skip a beat. He had never heard that voice before. “is that we should keep this one alive. If France knows we have him, she’ll surrender to us to keep him safe. She’s the one we want, not her little brother. Isn’t that right, Italy?”

”Y-yeah, totally-,” Fascist replied with a shaky voice, pretending not to care that France and Vichy were his siblings.

Reich pondered this for a moment. He had never considered taking hostages... This could work.

France would be his in no time at all!

“Alright,” he agreed, putting away the pistol. “Let’s head back then, shall we?”

Almost immediately, Vichy was lifted bridal style into a pair of strong arms. They held him tight, but were kept loose enough to allow him to move around a bit. He opened his eyes to see a tall, muscular man with velvet skin holding him at least six feet off the ground.

He looked quite intimidating with the black eyepatch over his right eye, but the way he handled Vichy... He was being quite careful, gentle, even, as if he cared that the boy was a living being. 

A strange thought crossed his mind, causing a pink hue to wash over his face. He couldn’t believe he was thinking this about such a man; man who had joined the Axis Powers knowing what harm he would do the other European countries. Vichy hated himself for allowing this thought to make its way to the front of his mind, but he couldn’t help it.

The man _was_ quite attractive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *they are currently staying in a boarding house


End file.
